You Never Drink It Black
by bunniesgonomnom
Summary: Castle is surprised when Beckett openly invites him back to her apartment for coffee after Ryan's wedding. Post Til Death Do Us Part. A somewhat long one-shot. For rickkate32 on Tumblr.


_Title: You Never Drink It Black_

_Summary: Castle is surprised when Beckett openly invites him back to her apartment for coffee after Ryan's wedding._

_Disclaimer: Nope, I don't own Castle. Just a student on Thanksgiving break who needed something to do while dog-sitting._

_A/N: I asked for fic requests on both Tumblr (keepcalmandwatchcastle) and Twitter ( castlefreaksamy), and rickkate32 on Tumblr asked for this one. To be honest, I've been dying to write a post-wedding one for the longest time, but hey, I'm really not creative, so the prompt was awesome. A big thank you to rickkate32! - Samy_

* * *

He was amazed that she hadn't tired of him already.

First, they'd sat together during the wedding ceremony (and it was a long one too; Castle thought it so like Kevin Ryan to embrace every last second of his wedding even when Castle himself wanted to gouge his eyes out and scream bloody murder), then they'd gone to the reception together (she'd even let him drive her there), and once the reception had ended, once the new husband and wife had driven off in the sunset together, Castle was still with her. On most occasions he could recall, she would've cut out on him quicker than he could've said the number of his books that had been on the bestsellers list, but at that point, she had been standing in her apartment and still wearing that sinfully tight grey dress while brewing some coffee for both of them.

Coffee. Yes. That had been what he'd come over for. After the ceremony, Kate had invited him to go for coffee at her place.

_"So, Castle," she said as they entered the Ritz-Carlton's ballroom, "which side of the family paid for this, do you think?"_

_As Rick looked up at a painted ceiling that would make Michelangelo jealous, he said, "Jenny's. A cop's salary could hardly pay for this."_

_For that, she pinched his arm, and an instinctive _apples!_ came out in return._

_"My, Detective Beckett, have I hit a nerve? A wedding venue-related nerve?"_

_"What?" Oh, she'd been caught off guard. "No. Why?"_

_He shrugged._

_"I just still have trouble believing that you've never torn a picture of a wedding dress out of a magazine. That's all."_

_She sighed with annoyance as they both glanced around the gold-toned ballroom in search of their seats. The entire place was giant; Castle could've sworn that such a vast room couldn't exist in the cramped city, but there it was, in stone and gold-leaf, just waiting for the newlyweds to arrive. More than anything else, Castle looked forward to the dinner since the ceremony had been long enough to make even the Pope bored, but then again, he didn't know for how long Kate would be staying, so maybe the dinner wouldn't be so fun. However, this great ballroom, full of cop friends of Ryan's and Jenny's family members, could be entertaining without Kate, and he'd been told that Esposito and Lanie would be seated at the same table as he and Kate, so maybe Beckett's eventual leave wouldn't be too terrible._

_But then he looked at her, and damn it. With her hair framing her face, she was the epitome of wonderful; taupe eyeshadow and long lashes were both around her green-brown eyes, and he didn't even scoff himself for wondering just how soft her pale pink-painted lips were. Curls of hair rested on her shoulders, and that dress - lord, that dress - held her body so beautifully and accented the strength of her legs. The light brown heels she'd decided to wear were not similar to her usual 'cop heels'; this pair was much more spiked, much higher, and with such height in her shoes, she was nearly at eye-height with him. He wouldn't mind looking at her like this all night; in fact, it would be such a shame to have her go home quickly because she looked so beautiful that she deserved to be seen, to be flaunted. Had she been with someone, Castle would've hoped they would show her off in order to tell the world yes, that she was theirs and all theirs, and yes, she was something worth being jealous of._

_However, as far as he knew, she was single, and she didn't have an interest in him that she voiced clearly, so he would just have to wait or wonder instead._

_Part of him wished she would just find someone and get married, or somehow miraculously turn into a bitch he knew she could never be, because then, at least, he would be able to scoff himself for lusting her like this. And what was it that made her extraordinary? Oh, what kind of a question was that? Everything made her extraordinary._

_But, for how, he would just have to wait and wonder._

_"Lanie and Esposito are over there," Kate said with a hand motion toward a nearby table, and as Kate clicked her heels across the marble floors of the ballroom, Castle followed, padding his dress shoes that way._

_Lanie and Esposito had since shaken their dates (thankfully, Castle might've added), and even though the medical examiner and detective sat far away from each other, Kate and Rick could both tell that they'd kindled a conversation, one that would only be interrupted by Castle and Beckett._

_"Hey," Kate said with a small smile as she sat in her assigned seat. Oh, and Castle was right next to her. The wedding planners must've had a sense of humor._

_Lanie and Esposito both gave waves, and Rick sat down next to Kate as she placed her light brown clutch on the table._

_Wine glasses were already on the table. Rick prayed that someone would just fill them already._

"My milk's gone bad," she commented as her coffee-maker started up. "There's soy milk, though. Or half-and-half."

"No soy milk," he commented as he sat down on one of her kitchen table's stools. Goodness, he needed to take that cummerbund off. His bow tie was already draped around his shoulders and untied.

"Why not?" she questioned as she stepped out of her heels and lost a few inches of height.

"Makes men less fertile."

"Oh," she said with mock-revelation, "and you so _desperately_ need to be fertile."

"Hey, I don't take my chances."

"Why is it that men take stupid chances often but then don't when a chance could sacrifice what's under the waist?"

"Pride, primarily."

"Huh."

She turned to face him, leaned back on the counter behind herself while their coffee brewed. So maybe she shouldn't have done that in front of him; now his eyes were wandering from her waist up to her eyes, and as she smiled to him from their previous conversation, he met her eyes. For a moment, they stayed within each other's gaze, but then her smile faded slightly, and she began to look down. With a touch of her hand, she brought a lock of hair behind her ear (a nervous tick he already knew of) and looked back to their coffee.

_"Where'd Lanie and Esposito go?" Kate asked upon returning from the bathroom._

_"I didn't ask," Rick replied sheepishly as she sat down._

_Their table was mostly empty; again, the wedding planner must've had some dry sense of humor. For a while, they were left alone._

_Before, she'd been smiling, and she'd laughed while one of Ryan's relatives had told stories of the young lad, and she herself had brought up some great moments with the detective as well as a retelling of the engagement story. Castle hadn't seen that side of her, the side that told stories and laughed and gushed over romance, for a while, probably not since before the shooting, and it was wondrous to see her with a wide smile again; she was so beautiful. However, when she'd returned from the bathroom, she wore no such smile but instead just a casual, straight-mouthed look. He didn't understand how something in her emotions could've changed from simply five minutes, but as his mother had said, Rick knew nothing about women, so maybe he wasn't thinking correctly._

_"You alright?" he asked as she brought her clutch back up to the table._

_"I'm fine," she said with a nod, and damn it, he could see straight through her words._

_He nodded slowly, pretended not to read her like a book as Feist music played in the bustling ballroom._

_"It's just," she cut in, and he glanced to her as she looked to her lap, "I've been thinking about what you'd said earlier."_

_"What did I say?" he asked and suddenly cursed himself for making a rude comment. Had he made a rude comment? He'd been his usual charming self, but he could've taken something too far, or-_

_"That comment," she said. "About the dress. About tearing a picture from a magazine."_

_Oh._

_"What about it?"_

_She laughed without humor, then went into her clutch and pulled out a folded piece of magazine paper. Handing the slip to him, she kept her gaze on the table in order to keep from having eye contact. He unfolded the paper and slowly revealed a picture from some catalog, maybe David's Bridal, in which a woman modeled a long, white gown. The silk dress was empire-waisted and clung to the woman's figure in a flattering way, and lace trim was in the long skirt below the waistline. For a moment, he could picture Kate in that dress; he could picture Kate as being the one with her hair curled into a bun, the one with a veil resting across her shoulders, the one whose eyes would be done up with wonderful colors that matched the bouquet in her hands, the one whose smile could heal the sick._

_For a moment, he was mesmerized._

_"It's stupid; I know," she said, "but when I was getting my hair cut last week, I was looking through a magazine, and well, there it was. I just kind of...liked it. Thought it was pretty, too."_

_She sighed._

_"So go ahead. Mock away."_

_He swore, if he hadn't known better, he would've kissed her silly right then and there, but instead he just smiled._

"Do you mind if I change?" she asked him sheepishly as their coffee brewed in her apartment. "This is getting uncomfortable."

As she pointed to her dress, he nodded, and so she walked off to wherever her bedroom was (he'd never seen it before) while he sat there alone, only the sound of the coffee machine to keep him company.

_After speech upon speech upon speech and the couple's first dance, Castle was glad to see that the bar was _finally_ open and that the music in the room had turned from light and soft to loud and obnoxious; maybe he could get lucky with Kate on the dance floor. Well, not like that. No, not like _that_ at all, but maybe - just maybe - she wouldn't leave him alone during one of the slower songs. Good God. He was turning back into a middle-schooler._

_"A Stella, please," he told the caterer behind the bar; it was too early yet for something heavy, and plus, Kate hadn't shown any signs of wanting to leave, so he was in luck._

_To him, it was funny how this entire party was so full of life, so festive and jovial and entertaining, but the thought of Kate leaving made him suddenly feel so bored, so at unease, as though a worse party had never been thrown. Then again, he had been to many worse parties, such as Patterson's the year beforehand, in which two blondes half Castle's age flirted with 'the white whale' while Castle's mind was flooded with thoughts of Kate._

_He prayed she wouldn't leave anytime soon. The night had been fun for that long, so he hoped with all of his might that she wouldn't leave._

_"Hitting the drinks, Big Rick?"_

_He turned around in his bar stool to watch as Kate sat down next to him and held up two fingers, thus signaling for another Stella._

_"It's early," he said as he folded his hands on the bar. "I'm going light."_

_"You seem to have this down to a science."_

_He shrugged._

_"Practice makes perfect, Detective Beckett."_

_She nodded with a smile as their beers came up, and he was first to take a sip._

_"I know how this is going to sound," she began as she cupped the chilled glass in her hands, "and if you make this out to be more than I mean, then I'm going to have to shoot you."_

_"Go on."_

_"But I don't want to be left alone during one of the slow songs."_

_"Ah," he said coolly, but on the inside, he was as explosive as a pyromaniac's fourth-of-July celebration. "Noted, Detective. I will save a dance for you."_

_"Thanks."_

_She gave the ghost of a smile but quickly covered her mouth with her drink; she couldn't possibly give him that kind of satisfaction, but damn it, he felt it anyway._

She returned a few minutes later and was clad in a pair of leggings and a light blue button-up chemise, her feet bare. Back in the kitchen, she took out a few mugs and poured their coffee into each; she filled hers with half-and-half while leaving his black.

"Any add-ins?" she asked as she turned to face him.

"Nah, I'm fine with black."

She nodded.

"You must have writer's block," she said to him even though she faced her coffee. "You only drink it black when you're blocked."

But no, he wasn't blocked; it was just that her hair was tied into a braid that rested across her shoulder, and as she went with their coffees in her hands sat down on the couch across the room, he stood up to join her, to sit down as she rested her feet on the coffee table, and maybe he liked all of this more than he should've, and that was why he was drinking his coffee black. Maybe he liked how the long window behind her couch showed the bright night lights of the city and how the bright gleams from buildings that hadn't gone to sleep yet shown light across the contours of her face, the hollows of her eyes. Yet again, he let himself become mesmerized by this woman, this extraordinary woman, the one woman he could ever want and the only one he could never have.

She handed him his coffee as he sat down.

"Thanks," he said, taking the cup.

"Anytime," she said.

For a moment, they sat in silence as she sipped her coffee and as he drank his own.

She had so many things she could say, but instead of speaking, she hid her lips behind the warm mug of coffee and inhaled the scent of her drink as she wondered just what she could say. Even though her best morals told her not to speak, to just let all of this go, she wanted to tell him everything; after watching that bank explode while he had been inside, she'd been feeling this sensation in her gut, one that seemed to say that she couldn't wait any longer to tell him. After that shooter earlier, with all of the trauma they'd both faced, she wondered just how much longer she could go without telling him. He had given a good point before; they'd both saved each other's lives more times that should've been necessary, and what if he wasn't there the next time? What if _she_ wasn't there the next time?

What if he would die believing that she hadn't heard him on that terrible, terrible day?

The words were on the tip of her tongue, and yet she couldn't form speech, couldn't think of what to say, so she continued to hide behind her cup, and thankfully, he couldn't see through her act.

Well, maybe he _could_ see through her act. In fact, he was reading her like a book, but one part was missing; it was as though he was reading old English and could only make out certain words. He wished so much that he could just wrap an arm around her, ask her what was wrong, and listen to her talk until the city woke up again, until daylight came. However, that was unacceptable, and Castle didn't know if she was with someone or not (but he was pretty sure she wasn't after that dance earlier), and it wasn't his place to pry. Oh, it _really_ wasn't his place to pry. After what had happened the first time he'd pried, he couldn't bear to pry again.

"Hey," he said, giving his best shot. Though he hadn't a clue as to what would make her shell break, he did know how to take her away from her thoughts, and maybe doing just that would be enough to help.

"Hey," she said back, looking up to meet his eyes.

So maybe she'd fallen for those eyes millions of times, from the time she first closed one of his books to the way he'd looked at her as she'd laughed during the ceremony. Would he ever know that? She wished, but highly doubted, that he would.

"You seem too pensive," he commented.

She sighed.

"I've just been thinking a lot lately; that's all," she said with a shrug.

"About the shooter?"

She was surprised when she heard that; immediately, she shook her head.

"No," she said.

"Then what about?"

You, she thought. All she could think about was him, from the time that he first brought her coffee in the morning to the time when he gave his ever-so-trademark 'until tomorrow' before heading for the precinct's elevator. Whenever she made herself dinner, she wondered how different her kitchen would be if he was in it with her, wondered what he would cook, wonder what comments he would make about the things in her fridge. During times she spent at the shooting range, she would recall that day she 'taught' him how to shoot and try to understand how she _hadn't_ felt this way about him back then. Every time she went into a bookstore, she would linger in his section, look over all of the Nikki Heat books again and reread her favorite pages, the dedications, and the author description just because she wanted to. Ordering coffee? Well, that one practically wrote itself in her mind.

But she couldn't tell him that, so she shrugged instead and lied with, "I'm trying to refurnish my bathroom, so I'm figuring out how to finance that."

"I know some good people for that," he added.

Of course he would, she thought.

"Thanks, but I think I've got it under control."

Mainly because I'm lying, she thought.

"Castle?"

"Yeah?"

She swore that if she didn't tell him yet, then she would burst, explode, let flesh fly out every which way, and the couch they were on had been expensive, and she didn't want to soil the rug, so she _had_ to say something already.

"Can I tell you something?"

"Always, Detective Beckett," he said. "Always."

"Promise not to interrupt? At all?"

"Scout's honor."

"You were never a scout."

"Let's pretend, then. Just for right now."

"You promise?"

"I promise."

She took a deep breath; she couldn't turn back now. No longer could she shake off this little thing she felt, but then again, was it even little anymore? How could it be little when she would call him late at night, and he wouldn't pick up, and then she would conjure up thoughts of him being with someone else, and then she would cry herself to sleep because, God, she wanted him and him only? And none of this made sense to her, and she could see everything so clearly, and all she really knew was that she wanted him, and based on what he'd said during that horrible day, he wanted her as well.

"I remember everything," she muttered as she stared down at her coffee.

_Ryan, as usual, had probably been a total sap in putting 'I Can't Help Falling in Love with You' on the reception playlist; as soon as Castle heard the song, he both wanted to groan and laugh since, goodness, that was such a typical wedding song. Then again, Rick enjoyed the song, enjoyed Elvis Presley in general, and the song was-_

_The song was slow._

_This was a slow song._

_All of the other couples in the room were together, arms draped around each other, and even Lanie and Esposito (he was _so_ taking cell phone pictures of that so that Javi would fold good hands during their next poker game) were up dancing to the song._

_The chorus was already coming in when he noticed Kate sitting alone back at their table, her legs crossed, her cell phone in hand. That was such typical behavior for her, using her cell phone to look as though the matter at hand didn't matter to her when in reality, it did. He sauntered across the room, taking large strides since damn it, he'd probably already wasted half of the song, and he hadn't a clue as to when Kate would be this open with him again, so he had to take this opportunity with (literally) open arms._

_"Hey," he said from above her as he reached the table._

_She looked up, gave that ghost of a smile again._

_"Hey," she said in return as she turned her phone off, placed the item back into her clutch._

_"Remember that dance I promised you?"_

_He gave a hand._

_"To this song? That's sappy, Castle. I thought you were a playboy."_

_"Ah, on my better days, yes, but I don't think that this can be considered one of my better days after that millennia of a ceremony."_

_She laughed, taking his hand._

_"C'mon," she said. "If Lanie and Esposito are doing it, then we'd better as well."_

_"You noticed that too? Do you think they'll get back together?"_

_She shrugged, pursed her lips as they walked out onto the floor._

_"Only time will tell."_

_Once they'd found a place, he was quick to wrap an arm around her back gingerly, and he prayed that she wouldn't hate his touch. To his surprise, she was also quick in wrapped her arm around his side, placing her palm over his shoulder blade. He took her right hand in his left and swayed there with her._

_For a while, he felt as though this was the most natural position he'd ever been in, as if he should've never had her out of his arms. Despite her height in those heels, she still leaned her head over to lean on his shoulder, and never (well, at least, not recently) had he been this close to the detective. Their bodies were pressed together, and the feeling of her heartbeat made his own skip. And she smelled beautiful as well, a mix of jasmine and red wine from earlier._

_"Don't enjoy this too much, Castle," she called him out but mostly made a joke, so he laughed as he felt her diaphragm contract with laughter._

_"I won't," he said._

_But damn it, he was going to soak up every moment of this, for being with her like this had been something he'd been hoping for almost since the day he'd met her. Now that he was beginning to realize that no matter how much he wanted her, he wouldn't be able to have her, he tried to soak in these moments in which she so freely was with him._

_Call him desperate, but these moments were what got him through the week, what helped him force out those chapters, what gave him reason to wake up in the morning._

_Somehow, he didn't regret that at all._

"What?"

He hadn't heard. Maybe she could back out. No, she told herself; she had to go through with this, even if it was the last thing she ever did.

"I remember everything," she repeated with a stronger, more triumphant voice. "I remember everything from the day of the shooting."

She looked up to see him, and God, he was cringing, and his eyes were shut, and he looked both angry and scared and mad and frightened and mortified and, God, she couldn't look at him any longer because if she did, then she would surely burst into tears, and this was no time for crying.

But he hadn't interrupted, so she forced herself onward.

"I can remember it all," she said, and she instinctually felt one hand go to touch her scar through her shirt. "Even though I try to block everything out, I can remember it all, from the feeling of the bullet piercing through my chest to the feverish unconsciousness. Have you ever had surgery, when they use anesthetics on you? When I was younger, I had my tonsils removed, but I think I already told you that, and while I was unconscious, I remember feeling as though I was surrounded by black for a long, boring five minutes. It's funny; my surgery went on for an hour, but I only felt a long five minutes. And then that feeling came back during the shooting, and for those blissful five minutes, I was entirely unaware of my surroundings, and I didn't know what was going on. For a while, I felt wonderful because I wasn't plagued with my mind."

She had to give herself a moment to breath.

"But then I woke up, and people were rushing, and God, all of my thoughts came back. Every single one, from those regarding Montgomery, my Mom, the entire case itself, all of those came back, and for a while, I felt as though I couldn't even breathe; I was claustrophobic for what felt more like hours than five minutes. But most of all, Castle, all I could think about was what you had said."

She tried not to meet his glance, but she could feel him watching her.

"Thoughts of you overpowered everything else," she said. "Everything about you somehow seemed to matter more than the case. If I were to admit how long I thought about you during that first day in the hospital, then you'd probably be embarrassed, and then when you finally visited, I wanted to say something, to tell you that I had heard you, but damn it, I'd been so scared. I was a coward, and I gave in to that cop instinct to lie. After that lie, I needed time, and during all of that time at my Dad's cabin over the summer, I could only think of you."

She breathed again.

"There was one time," she said, "and I was laying in my father's guest room, and since it had only been two weeks since we'd come to his cabin, I was still having trouble doing much of anything. He'd run out of milk and eggs, and I couldn't let us both starve, so I'd forced him to go to the store, told him that he couldn't be under house arrest because of me. Reluctantly, he'd gone, and I'd been told to stay in bed until he returned. He'd even forced me to have pain pills before he'd left just to insure that I wouldn't move.

"While he was gone, I'd pulled out Heat Rises for the first time, and as I ran my fingers along the hardcover binding, I'd wanted you. I'd wanted you there, with me, laying next to me, being comforted solely because I was breathing. For a while, I needed you, and I couldn't handle it anymore. There was a landline halfway across the guest room, on a side table; I could easily reach the receiver if I stood up and walked a few paces, but I hadn't walked since the day of the shooting. In my mind, I kept repeating your number, kept thinking of all the other numbers I could use in case your cell phone was off because damn it, I needed to hear your voice.

"It was a challenge to even sit up, and when I'd finally managed to get my torso vertical, I felt so dizzy, and my stomach churned, but thinking of you forced me onward, and I tried to stand up on my feet. Holding the side of the bed, I managed to be entirely vertical, but my head was pounding, my heart rate was up, and my vision was blurred. For a while, I felt so delirious, but I could still hear your voice in the back of my head, so I pressed onward.

"When I finally did take a step forward, I felt as though my legs were jelly, entirely useless to me, too. With the twist of my ankle, I collapsed against a nearby wall, and I couldn't hold together any longer, but God, Castle, I needed to hear your voice. Thankfully, my Dad got back around then, and I still can't think of that look he had in his eyes when he found me crumpled in a heap on the floor. He'd been quick to bring me back to bed, checked my pulse, did everything he should've done before putting some ice on my forehead. That afternoon, he even read to me some in order to calm me down. Without a doubt, that had been my worst day during the entire three months.

"After that, I wanted to call, but I couldn't; I didn't want the pain to come back. I couldn't fall again, and I was scared that I'd hurt to the point where another one of those days would come back. And my father? Castle, he was so scared, and I couldn't do that to him again. Millions of times, I must've stared at that phone across the room, and the silent battles I had with the receiver were endless. I wanted you there so much that I couldn't even think straight.

"When I'd finally gotten back to the precinct, I'd been so ready to pull you aside, to talk to you, to tell you that I remembered everything. The boys told me that Gates had kicked you out; I'd been blocked again. That day, when I'd gone to your book signing, I'd been hoping you would be relieved that I was doing alright, but you were mad, and I should've seen that coming. I never should've left you hanging like that, but..."

She trailed off.

"I didn't know what to do," she said. "I was stupid, and I didn't know what to do. All of that time we spent on the swings, throughout those moments, I was ready to burst because I was so prepared to tell you that yes, I'd heard you, and yes..."

She breathed.

"I wanted to tell you how I felt," she said. "I wanted to tell you that I felt the same way, but I was too much of a coward, so I copped out. I was stupid, and I copped out."

She sighed.

"I guess it's either the alcohol or the coffee, or maybe the mix of the two, that's fueling this," she said, "because ever since then, I've been trying to say this, but I've been too scared to speak. So there you have it. That's what I've been meaning to say for all of these weeks. That's why I've been thinking a lot lately. That's it."

She quickly stood and gave a quick gait to the kitchen, where she dumped her coffee into the sink and left the mug there as she tried to figure out where the best place in her apartment to hide was. Based on the feeling in her head and the weight of her eyes, she could tell that any minute now, tears would be falling, so she needed somewhere to go, somewhere to take control, and maybe he would give up and just leave after a while.

Then again, part of her didn't want him to leave.

_The song ended all too quickly, and Rick wanted to squeeze her one last time, wanted to hold her just a bit longer, but he nonetheless let go; he had some higher being to thank for all of that time spent with Kate's body so close to his, and he wasn't about to ask for more since he had thank much already. Then again, he'd always been inconsiderate and selfish, so maybe he should've squeezed._

_"Thank you," Kate said as the loud pop music returned, and she met his eyes. "That was nice, Castle. Thanks."_

_She was quick to cop out, to head back to the table while he was left watching her walk away, the sway of her perfect hips bringing her farther and farther away from him._

_Then, she brought a lock of hair behind her ear, adjusted her skirt, fisted her hands._

_Maybe she'd wanted more, too._

_He would just have to go on wondering if she did._

She clutched the stainless steel of the kitchen sink, and as her knuckles wrapped around the cold metal, she could almost hear him standing up to follow her. As he walked over, the sound of his dress shoes hitting the floor coming closer, she closed her eyes, tried to blink back whatever tears she had, clutched the sink harder in order to feel as though she actually was in control.

"Kate," he said wordlessly, as though his voice were only a meek echo.

She was slow to turn around, to look up into his eyes, the eyes she'd stared at for months on months, only those eyes had been on the author's portrait in the back of her copy of Heat Rises. Feeling a single tear streak her face, she looked down, tried to cop out again, but this time, it was no use.

"I'm sorry," she tried as she moved, trying to get away.

But then he brought her into his big arms, and she was stunned for a moment as he wrapped his arms around her, held her there. After a few moments, she relaxed there, embraced him as well.

"Thank you," he whispered into her ear.

"For what?" she whispered back.

"For telling me," he whispered in return.

Moving back, she looked up at him and stayed in his arms.

"But I'm a man, and as I said earlier, us men have something called 'pride'..." he trailed off, looking into her eyes.

"What do you mean?" she asked.

"Could you say it?" he asked. "If you want to, that is. But please?"

She laughed and shook her head, still meeting his eyes. But before she would do anything, she brushed a hand through his hair, held his cheek in her hand as she started to wrap her mouth around words she'd been trying to say for months and months and months.

"I love you," she said strongly to him, still meeting his eyes and giving a beaming smile.

His face illuminated, and a smile spread across his lips.

"And I still love you," he said to her.

Before she could think about what she was doing, she pulled him in and brought her lips to his, locking open mouths together. He could all too clearly recall that night in the alley when he'd kissed her and watched as she'd gone to kiss him back, but this was all her doing, and this was truly real, and now, she really, truly did love him, so the passion behind her kiss was only accented. She sucked at his bottom lip as he pulled her closer, let her lean on her tiptoes in order to meet his lips. She ran her fingers through his hand again, and yes, they were doing this, and yes, he was actually kissing Kate Beckett, and yes, she was actually kissing him back. All of the years he'd spent holding back, all of the time she'd been denying what she wanted most, those moments were all gone, and as she gave a breathy moan and as he kissed her again, they both knew that even though so much struggle had gone into this moment, every moment of struggle had been worth it.

When they finally did pull away, she looked up into his eyes, and for the first time in months, he looked jovial, as though he'd never wanted something so much in his entire life.

"I love you," he said breathlessly and directly to her; her smile was going to break her cheekbones.

"I love you, too," she said back.

And as he kissed her again, she kissed back with more heat than before, and maybe, just maybe, he would learn where her bedroom was tonight.

_"Hey, Castle?"_

_Rick was quick to look at Kate as they got their coats from the Ritz's coatroom. Taking his back, he brought his arms through the sleeves of the jacket, and while she brought her silver peacoat back on, he couldn't help but adore the way her eyes looked against such a color._

_"Yeah?" he responded as they both buttoned and zipped up before heading outside._

_The newlyweds had already left, and the reception was over, and all that was left of his night was the ride back to his loft. Now was time to say goodbye to this warm, relaxed Kate and maybe hope to see Beckett the next day._

_In few words, he didn't want the night to end._

_"I don't know if you have some brash party to follow this," she began as they walked out of the hotel's lobby, "but I don't have anything going on for the rest of the night, and I was wondering if you'd like to come to my apartment for some coffee before you head home. My apartment's not too far from here."_

_His lips curved into a smile._

_"Why, Detective Beckett, I'd love to."_

_The smile she gave him as infectious, and for a moment, he couldn't remember a moment in which he'd been happier._

_She started walking out of the hotel and toward where he'd parked his car, leaving him in the dust. Was this honestly happening? Did Kate really want to stay with him even longer? Only hours beforehand, he'd been scared that she would leave unexpectedly, but now, she wanted the night to go on, if only for a few more minutes while they drank coffee together._

_A few paces ahead of him, she stopped, turned around in those gorgeous heels, and met his glance with her green eyes._

_"You coming, Castle?" she asked._

_"Yes," he responded as he went to catch up to her._

_He could tell that it was going to be a good night._


End file.
